


The Forgivable Sin

by MarianneGreenleaf



Series: Building a History Together: Marriage and Children [19]
Category: Music Man - All Media Types, The Music Man (1962), The Music Man - All Media Types, The Music Man - Willson
Genre: Almost Kiss, Ancient history/languages aisle, Charming Victorian, Confessions, Dancing together, Defrosting Ice Queen, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Fluffy Ending, Front hall flirting, Inspired by Music, Intimacy, Library Sex, Library Shenanigans, Light Angst, Literary Banter, Marian gets accosted, Missing Scene, Parlor passion, Pillow Talk, Pre-Relationship, Sexual Politics, Sexual Tension, Trading Innuendos, love bite, smexytimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:52:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarianneGreenleaf/pseuds/MarianneGreenleaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A deeper look at the events of "Marian the Librarian" and their aftermath - this time from Marian Paroo's perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Uncivilized Uproar

“No, it’s all right,” an all-too familiar baritone voice proclaimed. “I know everything and it doesn’t make any difference!”

Marian Paroo looked up from her book stamp, which was now perched in an outstretched, masculine hand – really, she ought to pay more attention to what she was doing! – to survey Harold Hill with a frown. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said dismissively.

Heedless as ever to propriety or even decency, the fly-by-night salesman took her hand in his and continued to barrel full steam ahead. “Mr. Madison,” he said in his booming voice, his expression one of fawning sympathy. “You were probably very young… anyone can make a mistake.”

The librarian immediately pulled out of his grip. She ought to have known Harold Hill would eventually unearth all the malicious rumors about her – she’d overheard the ladies clucking over these tall tales, herself – but his sheer rudeness in bringing them up to her in public still shocked her. However, she refused to reward his temerity with anything but the affronted denunciation it deserved. “What?” she said in a stunned voice, as if she had no idea what he was talking about. Deciding the wisest course of action was to ignore the man completely from now on, the librarian then turned her attention to the card catalog.

However, one of the most irritating habits about “Professor” Hill was that he had the exasperating trick of acting as if a person had said just what he wanted to hear, their conversation following a predetermined script in his mind that he was determined to make reality through sheer force of his will alone. “No apologies, no explanations,” he assured her as he scurried behind the counter. The volume of his voice dropped a few notches, which she found even more disquieting when he continued in a leering purr, “You see, I’ll only be in town a short while, and… the sadder-but-wiser girl for me.”

Seeing that paying no heed to his presence wasn’t going to work, and refusing to be a pawn in his little game for a moment longer, the librarian coldly and firmly stated, “Would you please make your selection and leave.”

“I have,” he said, warmly and earnestly.

Amazed that he didn’t even flinch at her dismissal – any reasonable man would surely have admitted defeat by now! – Marian turned to Harold Hill and asked, with real curiosity, “What do you want to take out?”

“The librarian!” he exclaimed.

Marian’s eyes widened, and this time she couldn’t entirely contain her discomfiture at his brazen overtures. But she was never one to capitulate even after having lost ground, so although the entire library had already aimed a resounding “Ssh!” in his direction, she added her own stern, “Quiet, please!” and marched over to a pile of books on the opposite side of the desk, fully intending to ignore Harold Hill once more. Not only would this fly-by-night salesman not take no for an answer, he would use anything she said against her. So no matter what came out of his mouth from now on, she mustn’t engage with him any longer.

Unsurprisingly, Harold Hill acted as if her rejection was merely an encouragement for him to encroach even further, and crept closer until he was looming over her shoulder. “The librarian,” he said, this time in a lover’s whisper.

As unsettling as his nearness was, the librarian was determined to persevere, and acted as if he were no more bothersome or worthy of attention than a tiny gnat buzzing around her head.

Harold Hill sighed, very convincingly playing the dejected paramour as he persisted in a disappointed voice, “You’re not listening, Marian.” She heard the rustle of fabric as he pulled something out of his pocket. “Look!”

At this boyish exhortation, the urge to scold once again took hold of her and Marian couldn’t help turning toward him – and then rolled her eyes and briskly turned away when he said her name in a sing-song voice and waved a cloth sack back and forth in front of her face. _You’re supposed to be ignoring him!_ she crossly reminded herself.

“Marbles!” he said cheerfully.

Marian’s head popped up and she froze in alarm.

Now that he had her full attention, Harold Hill grinned and circled the desk until he was once again in the librarian’s line of vision. “Six steelies, eight aggies, a dozen pee-wees, and one great big glassy with an American flag in the middle!” He paused and looked appraisingly at her. “I think I’ll drop them.”

Before she could think better of it, her librarian instincts to maintain order and neatness kicked in. “No!” she cried, lunging toward him.

Unfortunately, the desk was once again standing between them, so Marian wouldn’t have been able to stop him. But Harold Hill didn’t drop his marbles. Instead, he did something even more infuriating: He put his finger to his lips and led the rest of the library in issuing her a piercing “Ssh!” as if _she_ was the one causing all this disturbance!

Although the librarian now knew that ignoring Harold Hill was impossible – and downright dangerous! – it was the only course of action she had left at this point, other than abandoning her post and running for Constable Locke, which was something she steadfastly refused to do. The library was _her_ domain, and she would not relinquish even an inch of it to this outrageous interloper. Moving to the typewriter, she began to type with furious speed as her heart likewise pounded faster. Too rattled to maintain even the slightest semblance of poise when Harold Hill once again moved in front of her, she did the only thing she could think of to escape his latest ambush, and ducked out of sight.

Crouched in a kneeling position behind her desk and now utterly humiliated in front of all her patrons, Marian seriously considered going for Constable Locke, after all. Though she loathed the idea of ceding control of her precious library even for a moment, order must be restored, and as mortifying as it was to admit, she could no longer achieve this without the help of an outside authority.

It was then, when the librarian had been humbled into the very dust by the man she now hated more than anyone she’d ever met, that Harold Hill declared his love for her. At this final insult, Marian felt a welcome resurgence of pride. Marshaling her sense of righteous indignation once more, she rose to her feet, fully prepared to give the fly-by-night salesman the blistering admonition he so richly deserved – and was once again thrown off balance when she realized he had taken himself out of the line of fire. Instead, he was once again looming over her shoulder and crooning to her so raucously that even the people on the second floor had to have heard his brazen declarations!

It was disconcerting how Harold Hill had the uncanny knack of knowing just when to overcrowd her, and just when to put himself out of her reach. Still, Marian valiantly tried to endure his antics. When Zaneeta Shinn and Tommy Djilas approached the desk to get their books stamped, the librarian eagerly seized on this distraction – but was roundly thwarted when her stamp landed on Harold Hill’s outstretched hand.

And then he was all around her, advancing and retreating with all the skill and grace of a trained fencer as he continued to ostentatiously declare just how much he loved and needed her, until Marian was, at long last, driven to leave her desk. But she refused to retreat too far even as Harold Hill continued his relentless campaign of overwhelming onslaught and, pretending that she needed to look up the definition of a word, the librarian buried her nose in the massive dictionary only a few feet away.

But he was wearing her down, bit by bit, she finally had to admit. Anyone would have found it difficult to withstand such an incorrigible man! No matter what obstacles she threw in his path, he just kept coming and coming, his inexorable determination rivaling that of the gale-force winds that swept across the vast Iowa landscape. Caught up in this cyclone, Marian didn’t know how to free herself. Even more alarmingly, she was no longer certain she wanted to elude him; when Harold Hill closed the dictionary, placed a gentle finger under her chin and tenderly lifted her face to look at him, that _something_ in the pit of Marian’s stomach, which had been there since he first stepped in front of her on that warm, early-July evening, flared up even more strongly than it had when she had watched him gambol around the high school gymnasium.

“Now, in the moonlight,” Harold Hill serenaded in a low, velvety voice that made her both shiver and burn, as if struck by fever, “a man could sing it… in the moonlight… and a fellow would know that his darling had heard every word of his song… with the moonlight, helping along… ”

Marian was indeed hearing his every word, her body tingling from the top of her head to the tips of her toes as she backed away and he moved closer, his warm breath pleasantly tickling her lips and throat. It did not at all help that Harold Hill’s breath was surprisingly pleasant. She’d expected to be assailed by a pungent bouquet of spirits or tobacco, as those revolting scents would be perfectly in keeping with a fly-by-night charlatan steeped in all sorts of worldly vices. But instead, the sweet aroma of Sen-Sen washed over her. And she had always especially enjoyed licorice. The librarian also perceived he used bay rum aftershave, which made her heart beat even faster. It just wasn’t decent that such an appalling scoundrel should smell so appealing! As Marian struggled not to breathe Harold Hill in any deeper than she already was, his arm snaked out to grab not her, but the nearby railing of the spiral staircase, which was now pressing into her back and arresting her further retreat.

As odious as Harold Hill’s personality was, he was undeniably the most attractive man she had ever met, with his wavy chestnut locks, flashing brown eyes, handsome face, and lithe but masculine physique. And there was something indescribably appealing about the way he moved that made Marian’s heart beat faster, even in the midst of her annoyance. It certainly didn’t help matters that, though his declarations were hollow, his voice was deep and full and rich – exactly the kind of voice she had always dreamed of whispering such sweet and heated nothings into her ear. Though the librarian prided herself on keeping a cool head no matter how trying a situation was, her rational mind could not fight against the clamoring of all five of her senses. Harold Hill looked, smelled and sounded delicious, and though she had not touched or tasted him, she suddenly, infuriatingly, desperately wanted to. When Harold’s penetrating gaze smoldered as he looked at her like they were the only two people in the library, Marian was completely undone, and leaned in to meet his mouth with hers.

Fortunately, the librarian caught herself just in time. Jolting herself out of her romantic reverie, she ducked out of the fly-by-night salesman’s embrace and fled back to her desk, straightening her spectacles as she did so. Although they were a little fogged up from his breathing on them, she refused to take them off – even if her vision was slightly hindered, she didn't want to be without them just now. While her spectacles were hardly an impenetrable shield should Harold Hill attempt to kiss her again, she always felt more in control when she was wearing them.

Nor could she waste valuable seconds cleaning the lenses – at present, she had bigger fish to fry. Spying _Great Expectations_ sitting on top of a pile of books, the librarian was suddenly struck with an idea. If Harold Hill refused to be silenced, perhaps his disruptive attentions could at least be diverted, as one redirects a naughty toddler to more constructive pursuits. Having assisted her aging mother with the raising of Winthrop for the past ten years, Marian was quite experienced in dealing with childish antics, and though the salesman was far wilier than her dear younger brother, it was worth a try. Now, where in heaven’s name was that darn ledger?

Naturally, Harold Hill was sitting on it – he had indecorously plopped himself on the desk as he continued to stridently declare his strong feelings for her. Grateful that he at least had the decency to move when she tugged on his sleeve so she could retrieve the ledger, Marian ignored her would-be suitor as much as she could until it was time to act. Once she had finished making her notations in the ledger, she picked up _Great Expectations_ and shoved the salesman off the desk – he had actually begun to loll about! – and then ushered him over to an empty seat on a bench that was currently occupied by three of River City’s most studious teens: Theodore, Philip and Bernard. With a firm hand, the librarian pushed Mr. Hill into a seated position, and had to stifle a triumphant smile when he sputtered to a stop mid-sentence and looked up at her as if he were rather taken aback by her strength. As he attempted to recover his breath, Marian opened the book, placed it into his hands, and stood before him with a no-nonsense glare and her hands on her hips. Although the salesman cheekily finished his sentence, he then buried his nose in the book she had procured for him.

Satisfied that her unorthodox solution had proven effective – for a few minutes, anyway! – the librarian returned to her duties. When she heard the rhythmic tapping of Harold Hill’s two-toned shoes on the floor, she did not pay him any heed; it wasn’t until three more pairs of shoes joined his that she shot a stern glance in the salesman’s direction. But once again, he was too quick for her – he and the boys were perched perfectly still, seemingly engrossed in their books. Although the four of them were now sitting astride the bench and had traded tomes with each other, Marian couldn’t find any fault in their current behavior. With a resigned sigh, she went off to do some reshelving of returned volumes. While she knew full well that it was dangerous to leave Harold Hill unsupervised, she had work to do, and she couldn’t spend her entire afternoon governing his every action!

Opening a book of her own, Marian ascended the spiral staircase. As she neared the top, she became conscious of several footsteps deliberately marching in step with hers, and whirled around. Indeed, Harold Hill, Theodore, Philip and Bernard were now standing behind her. As they regarded her with innocent grins, she smiled benignly at them in return. The salesman’s new little game of engaging in surreptitious mischief behind her back was a lot more bearable than his backing her into a corner with his overcrowding of her person and his garish declarations of love, and if all it took to keep him in check was a sharp gaze aimed in his direction every now and then, she was more than up to the task. At the very least, her vigilance would cow his teenaged accomplices, as River City’s youth considered the librarian a formidable personage who was not to be trifled with.

But perhaps she had declared victory too soon. When Marian came back down the spiral staircase a mere few moments later, she caught sight of Harold Hill, Theodore, Philip and Bernard each dancing with a girl. So much for the strait-laced teens being a good influence on the indecorous salesman! With a gasp, the librarian hastened over and put an immediate stop to their shenanigans. However, just after she had managed to restore proper order, the silence was broken by a group of girls marching energetically into the library. No sooner than Marian had raced over to this fresh disturbance and shushed its perpetrators into a much more acceptable gait, Cissy Gale and her friends erupted into ear-splitting giggles – they’d gotten into Casanova’s memoirs yet again! But the frazzled librarian had no time to put a stop to their tomfoolery, as Tommy Djilas was now perched precariously over the second-floor railing, apparently reenacting the balcony scene from _Romeo and Juliet_ with a delighted Zaneeta.

“Tommy!” Marian cried out in alarm, running halfway up the staircase and gesturing for him to come down immediately. As he scrambled to obey – nearly tumbling off the railing in the process – the librarian went back down to the first floor, intending to offer the instigating “music professor” an ultimatum: Either he better help her quell the rebellion he’d started, or he could explain himself to Constable Locke when she reported him for disturbing the peace!

But it was too late. Marian had hardly opened her mouth to confront the salesman when the entire library erupted in pandemonium. Her concentration shattered, all she could do was gape, sputter and throw her hands up in dismay as the teenagers danced merrily about. Remembering her ultimatum, she turned back to Mr. Hill, but once again, he’d taken the opportunity to disappear.

Refusing to let him elude her so easily this time, the librarian marched off to find him. Forget about gaining his cooperation – once she found Harold Hill, she was going to banish him from the library for good!

However, he was nowhere to be seen. At any rate, it was difficult to locate the slippery man in the midst of such chaos. Thoroughly distracted by the monkeyshines of the same gaggle of girls who’d noisily entered the library just a few moments earlier, the librarian was waving her arms scoldingly at the group and trying to herd them toward a table when the back of her legs hit an unexpected obstacle and she went tumbling backwards.

Before she could go crashing to the ground, a strong pair of arms encircled her waist and arrested her fall. However, Marian was anything but relieved to be rescued from injury – especially when she realized not just who her “rescuer” was, but that he must have stuck out his leg and made her fall in the first place! And that wasn’t even the worst of it. Finding herself sitting on Harold Hill’s lap, his arms wrapped tightly around her and his grinning mouth looming just inches over her own, the librarian felt those dangerous butterflies fluttering in the pit of her stomach. As she gasped for breath, the intoxicating aromas of licorice and bay rum assailed her senses again – if the salesman attempted to kiss her again, there would be no escaping him this time.

When Harold’s devilishly handsome face moved even closer to hers, Marian furiously leaped up from the trap she’d literally fallen into – but before she could so much as straighten her spectacles, she was swept into the arms of a line of young men who happened to be waltzing by the table.

The librarian ought to have been even more furious at being caught up in this latest maelstrom, courtesy of Harold Hill tugging on her arm and refusing to let her go until just the right moment. But as her feet automatically began to move in rhythmic step with the boys’, Marian suddenly remembered just how much she missed doing this – she hadn’t danced since Cincinnati. In addition to taking formal dance lessons – which her family’s meager finances no longer allowed for after her father’s health failed – she and her girlhood chums had practiced the latest steps for hours and hours. She’d forgotten how exhilarating it was to whirl freely and gracefully about, forgotten how wonderful it was to be part of the fun, rather than the strict chaperone who dutifully maintained order. While she may have been considered a hopeless wallflower in River City, she had never wanted for dance partners at parties in Cincinnati. Though none of the teens were old enough to be serious suitors, it was strangely refreshing to be an object of admiration rather than scorn, if only for a brief moment. Reveling in the friendly smiles she received from River City’s boys and girls alike, Marian tossed her spectacles aside and gave herself over to the inclination to engage in a little lighthearted frivolity.

And so the librarian blithely pirouetted and gamboled about, even going so far as to climb up and dance on top of a table at one point. She was having the most fun she’d had since – well, she couldn’t even remember. Perhaps she ought to dance more often…

Twirling in her current partner’s arms – she’d gone from one young man to another as they all clamored to dance with her – Marian turned to give him a friendly smile in return… and found herself looking into the grinning face of Harold Hill.

Her fury reignited, Marian threw his hands away from hers and ran back to the desk. How long had she been ensconced in the salesman’s arms, making a complete fool of herself? Needing to find something constructive with which to occupy herself lest she give in to the ever-increasing temptation to strike Mr. Hill and therefore make an even bigger scene, she started to gather up every book she could lay her hands on. As the salesman cheerfully assisted her in this task by plunking several tomes on top of the pile in her hands, she grew even angrier. _Just keep moving_ , she ordered herself, determined to outlast even Harold Hill’s interminable vigor.

As the librarian hastened to the second floor with her armload of books, he followed hot on her heels, once again vociferously declaring his love for her:

_But when I try in here to tell you, dear_  
_I love you madly, madly, Madam Librarian… Marian_  
_It’s a long lost cause I can never win_  
_For the civilized world accepts as unforgivable sin_  
_Any talking out loud with any librarian_  
_Such as Marian…_

Marian was fast nearing her breaking point, and it was only the admonishing shushes of the rest of the library’s patrons that kept her in check – at least everyone else had the good sense to settle back down once her unequivocal withdrawal from the festivities indicated that the fun was finished!

Suddenly, Harold Hill broke into his own declarations to inform her, “Ladies’ Dance Committee meets Tuesday nights!”

At this maddening reminder of her bleak station in River City’s society – who cared _when_ the Ladies’ Dance Committee met? They’d shun her every day of the week! – Marian whirled around to tell Harold Hill off. But as ever, he was one step ahead, and tossed a book at her. Thankfully, her reflexes were still sound even if her composure was completely decimated, and she caught the volume at once.

But as ever, her pursuer had yet another hijinks up his sleeve. “Marshmallow?”

Incensed that his cloth sack didn’t actually contain the marbles he’d previously claimed – was there no end to the salesman’s audacious prevarication? – the librarian threw her book to the ground with a bang. As she opened her mouth to let Harold Hill know in no uncertain terms exactly what she thought of him and his courtship, he took the opportunity to push one of the big, white puffs through her parted lips.

But if he stubbornly refused to quit, so did she. Marian forcefully expelled the marshmallow and opened her mouth to try again. His eyes twinkling, Harold Hill leaned in to kiss her. Though his kiss was loud enough for the entire library to hear, his lips were surprisingly gentle when they brushed her cheek. And along with the Sen-Sen and bay rum aftershave, the librarian also inhaled the beguiling scent of sandalwood soap. The not-so-common masher had clearly taken some time to spruce himself up before paying her a visit tonight!

Her face crimsoning at both this infuriating idea and the way it made that _something_ deep in the pit of her stomach quiver even more, Marian raised her hand to give the impertinent salesman an equally bold smack on _his_ cheek – and sent the hapless and undeserving Tommy Djilas tumbling to the ground, instead. As the librarian goggled at the poor boy, who was now lying on the floor in a heap with Zaneeta, Harold Hill nimbly hopped onto the dumbwaiter and descended to the first floor – holding a book in front of his face as a shield all the way down. Both irate and stunned, all the librarian could do was glare after the salesman as he vaulted over the counters of her desk with ridiculous ease and careened out the wide double doors.

As she continued to stew in her ire, Marian gradually awakened to the fact that everyone’s eyes were still upon her. Not only had Harold Hill caused unprecedented disruption in her domain, he had callously left her to deal with the aftermath all by herself. The older folks were gaping at her with scandalized eyes and the teens’ expressions ranged the gamut from guilty amusement to jittery apprehension, as if they feared she’d explode.

A frailer woman would have burst into tears at such humiliation. But Marian was used to being on the receiving end of ignominy from the River City-ziens, and she would bear this slight as stoically she had borne all the others. Smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt and drawing herself up to her full height, she announced in a firm and level voice, “Please gather your books and things together – the library will be closing in five minutes.”

On the surface, there seemed to be nothing remarkable about her statement; Marian made this announcement every evening before closing time. However, tonight she had made it a full half hour early – something that had never happened before. Still, although everyone glanced at the clock in amazement, no one dared to air this observation aloud. Realizing that the festivities were indeed concluded and that proper order was at last restored, the teens and older folks alike went about their business.

All except Tommy Djilas and Zaneeta Shinn, that is. When Marian turned away from the second-floor balcony, she saw they were still staring at her in wounded shock – and Tommy’s hand was still pressed to his cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Tommy,” she immediately apologized. “That slap wasn’t meant for you.”

He nodded understandingly and lowered his hand. “Professor Hill _did_ come on a bit strong,” he acknowledged with a small smile.

Zaneeta bent down and retrieved the book the librarian had angrily hurled to the ground. “I think you dropped this, Miss Marian,” she said kindly.

The librarian’s composure nearly quailed, and she felt dangerously close to bursting into tears. She could take the River City-ziens’ scorn, but not their pity. As well-intentioned as these two teens were, she couldn’t bear them looking at her like the sad and lonely spinster that she truly was.

“Tommy, Zaneeta,” Marian said in a much cooler tone, and loudly enough for the entire library to hear, “would you be so good as to inform Professor Hill the next time you see him that he is banned from this establishment for life?”

Both teens’ smiles disappeared. However, although they both looked disappointed and even a little bit hurt, neither one of them dared to protest, lest they receive the same punishment. “Yes, Ma’am,” they said quietly, and turned away from her.

Although Marian had not only succeeded in maintaining her poise in the face of embarrassment, but also in reasserting her authority over the library, she somehow felt even worse than she had before Harold Hill had first walked through those double doors. Not even recovering her spectacles – which, though they had landed on the floor, were only slightly smudged but otherwise none the worse for wear – could improve her mood.

Wiping her lenses clean with a handkerchief, Marian put them on and announced that the library was now closing. And so, a full twenty minutes early, the patrons lined up at the front desk to check out their books. As the librarian briskly stamped each volume, everyone remained quiet and all the teens approached her with downcast eyes – except for Theodore, Philip and Bernard, who tentatively met her gaze and smiled faintly at her. Though these smiles were mere ghosts of the merry rictuses the teens had worn while she’d danced with them, Marian’s heart flip-flopped and she felt that awful urge to cry again – what in heaven’s name was the matter with her?

Still, the librarian found herself giving the three boys a small but friendly smile in return before they turned and departed from the building. And then Marian was alone in the library. Theodore, Philip and Bernard had been her final patrons that evening, and Harold Hill was no longer lying in wait at the end of the line to catch her stamp in his outstretched hand.

Nor was the salesman lingering outside to follow her home, as he did the evening of July third. Although she certainly did not want his company as she made her way to West Elm, Marian couldn’t help feeling a bit depressed as she watched all the teens continue to revel in their youth and freedom. Now that they were outside the confines of the library, they could talk and laugh and even dance as much as they wanted: groups of girls were chattering animatedly, groups of boys were guffawing over one jest or another, and starry-eyed couples were making their way to the Candy Kitchen… or perhaps to the footbridge for a little romance.

Marian had once been a high-spirited teen, herself – the last young woman anyone suspected would end up a lonely spinster. If her friends back in Cincinnati could see her now, they’d be astounded at how serious and stern she’d become. But as she’d gradually lost touch with all her girlhood chums over the years, there was no one with whom she could commiserate about her lot or even fondly reminisce about days gone by. She’d been alone and friendless since her family moved to River City, and though she often cried herself to sleep at night when she first came to town, she’d since gotten used to living a solitary existence. Now, after tonight’s fiasco in the library, she found herself remembering what it was like to have comradely companionship – and realizing just how much she missed being part of a community.

Darn that Harold Hill for disrupting her well-ordered existence! Nothing good could possibly come of his meddling in her affairs. Although he had sparked a staunch kinship among the feuding members of the school board with his simplistic musical tricks, it would take more than a harmonic sleight of hand to get the ladies to change their ill-founded opinions of her character and personality. And the fact remained that no matter how much cheer he stirred up among these stiff-necked Hawkeyes and no matter how much happiness he left in his wake, Harold Hill was an imposter. When the rest of River City finally woke up to the reality that this self-styled music professor was nothing more than a silver-tongued shyster, they would look upon outsiders like her with even more suspicion than they had before.

“You’re home early, darling,” Mrs. Paroo remarked with a raised eyebrow when Marian entered the house.

“I’m not feeling very well this evening,” the librarian said curtly, and withdrew to her room before her mother could question her further – or, God forbid, detect the essence of Sen-Sen, bay rum aftershave, and sandalwood soap still faintly lingering about her!

Fortunately, Mama was just as out of the loop as she was, so it would be awhile before news of “Professor” Hill’s exploits at the library reached her – if she heard of them at all. For after her mother’s gleeful reaction to his following her home a few weeks ago, the librarian was not at all inclined to divulge tales of the fly-by-night salesman’s latest flirtation.

Nor was she inclined to give those unsettlingly pleasant stirrings in her stomach any credence. Not even when she recalled the softness of his lips against her cheek or the seamless rhythm of their dance together. Not even when she foolishly brought her sandalwood-scented hands to her nose and mouth and took one deep breath after another as the tears she’d been holding back for quite some time now began to pour down her cheeks. Harold Hill was long gone and Marian was alone in the comforting privacy her bedroom, but the _nearness_ of him persisted everywhere he’d touched her or come scandalously too close. And she was so pathetically, desperately, dangerously lonely that she was drinking in these paltry scraps of lovemaking as if they were manna from Heaven!

Although Marian couldn’t deny that she had been waiting all her life for a man who made her feel the way Harold Hill did when his gaze and hands were upon her, she absolutely refused to succumb to the amorous advances of a woman-chasing charlatan who would simply deem her another insignificant notch on his bedpost before moving on to his next conquest. While she had to admit he was extremely adept at wooing a woman, Marian wasn’t one to be won over by flattery and petting. No matter how much Harold Hill made her tremble with his smoldering glances, bold caresses, and delectable grooming habits, she would never give in to him. She didn’t want to be sold to – she wanted to be _loved_. And despite the urging of her mother and the ache of her treacherous physical yearnings, she refused to settle for anything less.

After indulging in a cool bath and scrubbing away the last traces of Harold Hill for good, the librarian felt composed enough to risk venturing down to the kitchen for something to eat. Fortunately, her mother treated her with tactful forbearance for once, and did not remark any further about her early arrival home that evening. A good dinner did even more wonders for her mood, so by the time Marian finally got into bed that night, she had completely recovered her equanimity – and she was even more firmly resolved that whatever Harold Hill was after, he wasn’t going to get it from her!


	2. Making Things Up To Marian

_July 1914_

Now that she was a full-fledged River City-zien with many friends and acquaintances who stopped by the library for chats, Marian Paroo Hill didn’t often absentmindedly employ her stamp these days when checking out books. However, it was such a sweltering Saturday morning that not many library patrons were given to idle conversation. As Theodore, Philip and Bernard lined up a little before noon to check out their latest selections, the librarian was daydreaming too much about lunch to do more than give the boys a perfunctory smile as she hastily marked their books – and then found her stamp landing with a smack into a familiar masculine hand, one that she now knew just as thoroughly and intimately as her own.

Feeling more amused than anything else at her lapse, Marian raised her eyes to see her husband grinning at her.

“Caught you daydreaming, Madam Librarian,” he affectionately chided as he wiped the ink off with one of the monogrammed handkerchiefs she had given him during their first Christmas together.

Marian laughed and shook her head in good-natured exasperation. “Oh, Harold!”

“A penny for your thoughts, my dear,” he offered with a twinkle in his eye.

“I’ve been looking forward to closing for at least the last hour,” the librarian confessed, taking out her own handkerchief and dabbing her slightly damp cheeks and forehead in a measured, ladylike manner that belied how desperate she was for a cool bath and a light negligee to wear afterward.

“Well, Theo, Phil and Bernie were the last to leave,” the music professor informed her as he took out a fresh handkerchief and wiped the perspiration from his brow. “I checked the stacks five minutes ago.”

“Oh, good!” Marian broke into an unabashed beam. “Why don’t you go ahead and lock the front doors, then? Once I finish updating the ledger, the library will be closed for the rest of the day.”

Looking similarly pleased, Harold darted to the wide double doors and slid the lock closed with his deft fingers. As he hastened to fulfill her request, the librarian openly admired her husband’s lithe, masculine frame and nimbleness of movement, which still made her stomach flutter just as frantically as it had when she first met him. Only now, it didn’t infuriate her to admit how fetching the music professor’s physical form was – and how much she longed to feel his arms around her waist and his mouth covering hers.

But when her handsome husband turned to face her, Marian remembered something, and met his grin with a frown. “Harold,” she said with a sigh, “you’re going to have to unlock the doors again. Jane still hasn’t returned from the errand I sent her on earlier.” She eyed the clock on the wall, which now indicated it was three minutes past noon. “I wonder what’s keeping her – it’s not at all like Jane to be late!”

In a flash, Harold was behind the desk and looming over her shoulder. “Oh, yes!” he said, as if he’d just remembered something, himself – though he sounded a little too well-pleased for her to buy this innocent charade. “I gave Miss Peabody a few extra errands on your behalf… and fifteen cents for a chocolate malted at the Candy Kitchen, as a thank-you for her diligence.”

As it was such a hot day, his warm breath upon her neck should have made her perspire even more. Instead, Marian both shivered and burned as a delightful thrill of anticipation ran from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Harold didn’t often use Sen-Sen these days – knowing full well her partiality to the breath freshener, he purposely saved it for special occasions – and when she breathed in licorice along with his usual beguiling essence of bay rum and sandalwood, that lovely _something_ deep in the pit of stomach blossomed. As it was far too hot a day for the music professor to smell so deliciously fresh nearing lunchtime, he must have taken a bath and shaved right before he came to see her. Even though the librarian found the scent of her husband appealing regardless of his grooming, the idea that he had gone to so much trouble to spruce himself up, as if they were still courting, was tremendously flattering.

Still, Marian kept her voice level and continued fiddling with the card catalog as she replied, “So you’ve waylaid my assistant, have you? Now we’re going to be here for at least another hour!”

“That’s exactly what I had in mind,” Harold purred into her ear, this time not even bothering to quell the triumph in his tone. His arms stole around her waist, though he held her lightly, maintaining the veneer of propriety up to the last possible moment even though they were completely alone in the building.

Just as happened the first time he’d ever taken such liberties in joining her at her post, Marian’s heart began to beat faster – but with anticipation instead of dread. However, while she was now his wife, she still wasn’t inclined to make things _too_ easy for the charming Casanova. “You picked a rather warm day to detain me in the library for longer than strictly necessary,” she wryly observed.

Harold hesitated for a split second before acknowledging with a small smile, “Yes, I suppose I did.”

As both reluctance and a subdued demeanor were quite uncharacteristic for the dashing music professor – she’d been expecting him to fire back a heated, flirtatious retort that made her weak in the knees – the librarian turned in her husband’s arms to face him. “Harold?” she questioned, her voice soft and encouraging.

Harold’s expression was just as grave as his tone as he answered, “Marian… do you remember a certain conversation we had last August, when you were pregnant with the twins and I was laid up with a sprained ankle? I wanted to make things up to you for what happened in the ancient history section a few years ago, and you told me to surprise you.” He paused and smiled again, not his usual million-dollar grin, but the sweet, abashed rictus he only ever gave to her when he was in the midst of baring his soul. “Well… surprise.”

At that, Marian did go weak in the knees; Harold’s arms tightened protectively around her waist as she trembled. “It’s all right,” he immediately reassured her. “We don’t have to go through with it if you’ve changed your mind.”

The librarian wound her arms around her husband’s neck and silenced him with a brief but fervent kiss. “What took you so long?” she admonished. “I’ve been waiting for you to make your move for months!”

She laughed inwardly when Harold goggled at her – though she excelled at taking the bombastic music professor down a peg when his charming ego got a little too puffed up for his own good, it wasn’t often she knocked him so thoroughly off balance. “You have?” he asked in an awed voice.

Marian nodded as she looked steadily into his searching gaze. “I have.”

She thought Harold would sweep her into a passionate kiss at that, but a spark of apprehension flashed in his eyes, and he continued to gaze uncertainly at her. Figuring he needed a bit more encouragement – after all, it was a delicate matter and she had slapped him quite brusquely the afternoon he’d sneaked up from behind to embrace her in the ancient history aisle – the librarian gave her hesitant husband a sly smile. “As long as you’re not planning to woo me with talk of carrion, that is,” she said provocatively, hoping that her flirtation would spur him into action. For good measure, she began to slowly remove her spectacles – a gesture that never failed to whet the music professor’s amorous appetites.

Indeed, that wonderful look of intense ardor blazed in Harold’s eyes, and with the million-dollar grin that always made her stomach flutter and her heart beat faster, he smoothly reached up to cover her hand with his. “Allow me, Madam Librarian.”

Keeping his gaze steadfastly focused on hers, Harold lifted his other hand and eased the glasses off of her, stroking her cheeks deliberately with his fingers as he did so. It was a surprisingly intimate gesture, and one that still made Marian shiver pleasantly even though they’d shared far closer embraces during their marriage. The librarian’s stomach fluttered even more when she recalled one of Harold’s many pillow-talk confessions: He’d wanted to remove her spectacles ever since the early months of their courtship. It had been almost too tempting, all those afternoons they spent alone together in the music emporium refining the Think System, but he’d somehow managed to restrain himself until three weeks before their wedding. Unsurprisingly, what had started as a light, flirtatious exchange progressed to a very heated interlude between the fiancés; it was a good thing Tommy Djilas entered the hallway leading to the music professor’s office treading a lot louder than usual! (Even now, Marian couldn’t help blushing a little when she remembered how, after Professor Hill had announced their engagement to the boys’ band, the teen had immediately adopted the habit of making a noticeable commotion whenever he neared the vicinity of Harold’s office – and it was a mode of behavior he still maintained to this day.)

Thankfully, husband and wife were alone in the library and the doors were locked against the incursion of patrons or even assistant librarians at present, so there wasn’t anyone around to spoil their solitude. So Harold didn’t stop at removing the librarian’s spectacles; after regarding her with a fond look for a moment or two, he leaned in to plant a gentle kiss on her left temple, and then her right. From there, his mouth proceeded to meander its way down to the tip of her nose and then her lips, where he lingered in a light but tantalizing kiss that left Marian even more weak-kneed than she’d been before he’d taken her in his arms.

When the music professor’s mouth finally parted from hers, the librarian gazed warmly and affectionately at the man who’d gone from being a charlatan, philanderer, and adversary to her friend, lover, and father of her children.

“I never get tired of doing that,” Harold said with a satisfied smile as he folded the earpieces and carefully laid the librarian’s spectacles on the desk. His smile broadened into a triumphant grin, though there was still an element of uneasiness in his eyes as he informed his wife, “We’ve got a good, solid hour or so before Miss Peabody returns. So, my dear little librarian… ” He briefly trailed off to bestow a gentle, open-mouthed kiss on the side of her neck. “Wherever we go in that hour is entirely up to you.”

Taking her husband by the hand, Marian briskly led him up the spiral staircase and down the aisle to the erstwhile ancient history section. As it was now the ancient languages section – and no longer ended in a wall, thanks to her assistant’s brilliant reorganization of the bookshelves last summer – the librarian was not able to stand upon the exact spot she’d been stuck in when Ed Griner had attempted to kiss her without her consent. However, the main thing was that she was here, at long last, with the man to whom she’d freely and happily entrusted her body, heart and soul.

When Marian turned to face her husband, she was saddened but not surprised to see that he looked even more apprehensive than he’d been when they were standing behind the front desk.

“It’s all right, Harold,” she assured him with a smile that was both impish and affectionate. “I’m ready for anything you have planned.”

Now Harold looked downright sheepish, even as he wrapped his arms around the librarian’s waist and pulled her close. “I know you’re expecting a romantic rendezvous, Marian, and I was planning on giving you that.” He kissed her sweetly on the lips. “In fact, after we made love in the faraway field last year, this became my favorite fantasy – the next adventure to look forward to with you. But now that we’re finally here, I’m finding these cramped quarters a lot more… ” – the eloquent music professor paused as if he was trying to think of just the right word – “ … _disquieting_ than I bargained for, and I find that I want… ” – he paused again and swallowed before finishing his sentence – “ …to talk.”

Genuinely surprised, Marian raised an eyebrow. “Oh? About what?”

Harold actually blushed, though he did not avert his gaze from hers. “About the past – mine, as well as yours.” He smiled ruefully. “Not very romantic of me, I know.”

Normally, Marian would have been chagrined by this unexpected turn of events, which had indeed dispelled the heated mood between them, but her curiosity was too piqued. “What is it?” she gently prompted.

However, her countenance must have registered a glimmer of disappointment, because Harold tightened his arms around her and said contritely, “I am sorry, Marian. This afternoon was supposed to be about _you_. Whether my difficulty comes from noble concern for your well-being or my own selfish desire for untroubled pleasure, I don’t know. But I do know that I can’t make love to you here in good conscience until I get something cleared up, first.”

Although the librarian had no idea what could possibly be nagging her husband after everything he’d already confessed to her in their two years of knowing each other, she nodded understandingly. Harold was wearing the same guilty expression he’d had right after the first time he’d kissed her on the footbridge, when he told her there was a lot that she didn’t know about him. It had amazed Marian to see such a shamefaced look on his face when their lips finally parted; she’d expected him to regard her with a triumphant grin now that she had, at long last, yielded to his charms. While it warmed her heart to see that the fly-by-night salesman possessed a bigger conscience than even she’d given him credit for, the besotted librarian had been so eager to enjoy what fleeting time they had together that she stifled her curiosity and refrained from seizing the opportunity to learn more about the man who kept his true self tightly under wraps. (At least, she refrained until the music professor came back from his intense but hushed tête-à-tête with Marcellus Washburn and embraced her with a grin that was a little too glib for her liking!)

But after all the struggle they subsequently went through to overcome their hesitation to confide in one another, Marian always made it a point to lend her ear whenever Harold was in the mood to talk about his past. And she hadn’t entirely lost hope of a romantic rendezvous in the library this afternoon; the deepening of their emotional intimacy, while fraught with uncertainty and tension at times, had the delightful effect of making their canoodling even more pleasurable than it already was. So the librarian regarded her hesitant husband with measured eyes and a benign smile as he gathered his thoughts together.

After swallowing one more time and clearing his throat for good measure, Harold matter-of-factly divulged what was on his mind: “Given how Ed Griner accosted you in this very spot, and given how I also went after you in the library with the same insolent gusto… why didn’t you despise me, as well?”

Despite the seriousness of the mood between them, laughter bubbled up inside the librarian at the memory of his public pursuit – his outrageous declarations of desire had ceased to sting the moment she’d started to fall in love with him. But Harold’s countenance was still reticent enough that she feared even the smallest of smiles would discourage him from baring his soul any further. So Marian buried her face in the crook of her husband’s neck to hide the mirth in her expression as she gently reminded him, “I _did_ despise you for a little while, darling.”

Indeed, Harold let out a chuckle that was more of a sigh than a laugh, even as he planted a kiss on the top of her head. “I gathered as much, Madam Librarian – and that makes it even more incredible that you love me as much as you do now.”

Her amusement fading, Marian raised her head to meet her husband’s intent, searching gaze. “It’s true that you both refused to take no for an answer,” she conceded. “And it’s also true that you both tried to make an unwilling woman kiss you. But only one of you brought my taciturn younger brother out of his shell. When I heard the way Winthrop exclaimed over his new cornet, heedless of his lisp for the first time since before Papa died, my heart turned over. And only one of you convinced Mrs. Shinn and her ladies to give the books they’d denounced a fair chance – to give _me_ a fair chance. And this was all before you risked your freedom just to be with me!” Her arms tightened around the music professor, whose expression was now awed as he drank in her words. “Even as you took, you gave so much in return, Harold. And not just to me – to Winthrop, Tommy Djilas, and all the boys who wanted a little more color and excitement than a farmer’s life could give them.”

The librarian buried her face in her husband’s shoulder again as tears welled up in her eyes. “Ed Griner just _took_. After he accosted me, I felt even more shamed and isolated and alone, cut off from finding solace even within my own family – I couldn’t even tell my mother what happened. But your pursuit opened the door for me to become a full-fledged River City-zien. When you swept me up into the dancing, it was the first time I felt like part of the crowd, the first time I could actually see myself as a member of this community instead of a lonely-and-misunderstood outsider looking in.”

Harold smiled. “I did think it was real shame that such a young and beautiful woman clung so stubbornly to her joyless and lonely existence.” He gently lifted her chin with his finger so their gazes could meet, and she likewise smiled as she noted that the usual, irrepressible twinkle had stolen back into his eyes. “Trying to win your heart was by far the toughest pursuit I ever undertook… and if it hadn’t been for that faint glimmer of reciprocation in your eyes when I leaned in to kiss you, I just might have thrown in the towel on River City altogether!”

This time, Marian didn’t attempt to hide her laughter. “Professor Hill, giving up altogether? What a preposterous notion! While you’re certainly practical enough to abandon a scheme gone wrong, I have a hard time imagining your pride would allow you to let a woman elude your grasp,” she teased, even as his nimble fingers, which were now caressing her cheek, caused her stomach to flutter in pleasant anticipation once more. “My stubborn refusal of your overtures merely firmed your resolve!”

The librarian expected her husband to laugh along with her, but instead, his hand fell away from her cheek. “Only because I knew that, deep down, you were attracted to me,” he said sheepishly. “If I had realized while I was chasing you that afternoon that you really did despise me to the core of your soul, I would have left you alone eventually. I may have been a shameless philanderer who saw ‘no’ as a challenge to be overcome rather than a final answer, but I was never _that_ kind of man. And so there has been a time or two in my past where I didn’t make it very far with a woman I’d set my sights on, despite my persistence.” Harold sighed and began to turn away from her. “Although in all honesty, I have sometimes wondered if the only thing separating me from the likes of Ed Griner was that he wasn’t so fortunate to be blessed with a silver tongue, himself… ”

Marian tutted at her thoughtlessness – how could she forget that this rendezvous was just as much for Harold’s sake as it was for hers? While it was not unfitting that he should harbor some regret over using his prodigious talents to take advantage of others, getting too mired in guilt over the way he’d behaved previously would rob him of the confidence he needed to remain the respectable husband, father and bandleader he’d worked so tirelessly to become.

Catching the music professor’s limp hand and bringing it back to her cheek, the librarian acknowledged without the smallest trace of a blush, “Harold, the first time I ever saw you, I felt a jolt in the pit of my stomach – and it wasn’t from disgust. Even in the midst of being appalled that you would be so bold as to follow me home and make such crass overtures, I couldn’t help reflecting how handsome you were… and how lonely I was.” Now her cheeks did start to crimson as she went on, “And as I watched you captivate everyone in River City with your silver tongue, a small part of me thought it was a real shame that such a charming and attractive man was nothing more than a slick, fly-by-night salesman. As for Ed Griner – I never had so much as a twinkle of desire for him, and his pursuit only drove me deeper into my shell. But when you pursued me in the library that day, you reawakened hopes and feelings I had long buried since I came to River City. When I eventually realized that you did have it in you to become the music professor you were pretending to be, my heart was yours, as well. Even though I was well aware that you were simply trying to flatter me into complicit silence with your declarations of love, I knew I could never feel about any man the way I felt about you.”

For a moment, Harold’s expression was inscrutable, even as his fingers once again began to stroke her cheek. “Marian,” he finally said, his voice heavy with emotion, “my feelings for you were always truer than you thought – truer than I wanted to admit, even to myself.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing wildly up and down. “For the longest time, I told myself I was merely selling you as I would any other woman, but the more I think on those days, the more I have to wonder if my heart wasn’t yours the very moment I saw you walking past the town green.”

Even as Marian’s heart flip-flopped at both his earnest admission and the renewed look of fervent determination in his eyes, she couldn’t help regarding her husband with a smile that was slightly skeptical – though his words were exactly the kind of romance the librarian had always imagined a white knight whispering to her back in her dull and dreary spinster days, such sweeping declarations were a bit too pie-in-the-sky in real life, especially when they were coming from a reformed Casanova! Keeping her voice as level as she could manage, she asked, “Are you quite sure it was your heart that led you to go after me, Professor Hill… ” – she allowed a little note of mischief to creep into her tone – “… or another part of you, entirely?”

Harold’s eyes widened, his expression that intoxicating mixture of astonishment and delight he wore whenever she succeeded in knocking him thoroughly off balance. But Marian barely had time to revel in the sweetness of her victory before one of her husband’s eternally wandering hands found hers and pressed it to the front of his trousers.

When she perceived how aroused he was, her smile was lost in a gasp; it never failed to amaze her how excited her husband could get, even (and especially!) in public. Although the librarian had been anticipating this tryst for quite some time now, her mind was sent reeling at Harold’s sheer boldness in demonstrating his desire for her _here_. Though she had long lost any (admittedly feeble) qualms about engaging in heavy petting with him at the footbridge, she could not help thinking of Madison Public Library as hallowed ground, no matter how alone they happened to be in the building at this precise moment.

Nevertheless, Marian did not make even a token attempt to extricate her hand from its present, scandalous position – and let out a small, encouraging moan as Harold leaned in to nibble at her neck. “Yes, Marian,” he ceded in a heated whisper in between kisses, “I suppose I overstated things just a little bit. But does it really matter which part of me wanted you first?” The fingers of his free hand, which still hadn’t left her cheek, twined themselves in the loose curls that had gradually worked their way out of her chignon over the course of the sweltering morning. “After two years and two children, I still get this way when I’m near you or even just thinking about you. If _this_ ” – he pressed her hand even tighter against him – “isn’t an indication of deeper feeling, especially for a former swindler who’d always lost interest in a woman shortly after he’d made his conquest, I don’t know what is… ”

If Harold had been planning to say anything more, he was roundly thwarted when Marian’s mouth found his for a long, deep and hungry kiss. Although marriage and parenthood had, in truth, softened the keen edge of awed and incredulous desperation that had initially colored their passion, she felt those same delightful butterflies she’d tried so hard to deny the first time he disrupted her library. “Well then,” she said softly and breathlessly after their mouths finally parted, “what _do_ you have in mind for the two of us, this afternoon?”

Harold’s fingers gently disentangled themselves from her curls, and he reached down to find her free hand. Marian was startled to realize that her husband was trembling, even as his smile and voice remained steady. “It took me a bit longer than I bargained for to work up the nerve to do this – me, who always rushes in where angels fear to tread!” He brought her hand to his lips and sweetly kissed the tips of her fingers. “I want to make a memory with you on this spot, Marian. A memory that will overshadow what happened in the library, before.”

Marian burst into laughter. “Harold, you’ve already done that, a thousand times over! And not just in my mind, either – ever since you serenaded your love loudly to me, everyone in town seems to view the library as a footbridge with bookshelves.” She raised an eyebrow at her provocative husband, who was now grinning proudly at his achievement. “Especially you!”

“Indeed I do,” he shamelessly agreed. “Under certain circumstances, at least… ” He gave her hand a furtive squeeze, and Marian felt her cheeks crimson at the reminder of just what that hand was resting upon.

But the librarian did not move her hand away. Instead, a gleam of mischief entered her gaze as she asked with coy curiosity, “Harold, were you like… _this_ the day you sang to me in the library?”

Harold chuckled. “I was a little bit, when I rushed after you to kiss you on the cheek.” He let go of her other hand to waggle a finger at her. “Watching you dance got me all riled up, Madam Librarian.”

Marian was too delighted to pretend she was scandalized. “And the footbridge, the night we first kissed?”

Harold let out a full-fledged laugh at that. “Oh, my dear little librarian, _that_ started well before the footbridge – right when I rounded the corner and saw you standing on your mother’s front porch in that fetching red dress of yours. After some struggle I did manage to settle down, but I was immediately set off again when I saw you in your pink-and-white organdy and we danced the Shipoopi together. By the time we finally made it to the footbridge, I was so hot for you I ready to jump out of my skin!”

“My goodness!” the librarian marveled. Though their conversation was causing her to feel much the same as he’d just described, she somehow managed to keep her voice level as she asked her amorous husband something she’d always wondered about, but never found quite the right time to mention: “If you had so much trouble restraining yourself so early on in our courtship, how in heaven’s name did you manage to keep a respectable-enough distance all the days and nights after that, until we finally made it to the altar?”

“Because I had good reason to restrain myself, darling,” Harold said tenderly, placing that waggling finger under her chin as he gazed deeply into her eyes. “As badly as I wanted you, I wasn’t about to give in to my carnal urges and ruin the life I was working to build with you.” He paused to regard her with a knowing grin. “But as you no doubt recall from some of our more impassioned embraces during those days, Madam Librarian, it _was_ rather hard – er, challenging at times.”

Marian’s own smile turned sly as she raised an eyebrow at her husband. “Was it indeed, Professor Hill?”

Harold’s only response was to close his eyes and let out a low moan – her hand, which up until now had merely rested on the front of his trousers, began to caress him in long, broad strokes.

“By the way,” the librarian said nonchalantly, even as she continued to move her hand back and forth, “did Tommy and Zaneeta ever pass along the message that you were banned from Madison Public Library for life?”

“That they did,” the music professor confirmed with a chuckle. Though his breathing was steadily growing more uneven, he still somehow managed to regard her with his irrepressibly charming “cat caught the canary” grin. “But apparently, that ban was lifted quite awhile ago!” 

“Well… that all depends,” Marian said coyly. The fingers of not one, but both of her hands found his belt buckle, and began to undo it. Harold’s panting came to immediate halt and his grin evaporated as an expression of sheer astonishment took hold of his features. But he did not try to stop her, not even when she unbuttoned his suit-coat and tugged both his dress shirt and undershirt loose.

As her hands crept beneath the fabric to caress his bare skin, the librarian meant to continue their flirtation by coquettishly informing the dashing music professor that the continued reinstatement of his library privileges depended on how many lines he dared to cross this afternoon. But when her fingers found the scar on her husband’s side, tracing the stitch marks forever imprinted upon his otherwise smooth skin, that fierce, wonderful ardor blazed in his eyes, and she said in a tremulous but determined voice, “I also want to give _you_ something to remember, Harold.”

He still continued to gape at her as a whirlwind of emotions swept through his widened eyes: shock, elation, affection, desire, apprehension – Marian could hardly keep track of them all. She almost didn’t know what to say or do next, but for the one look she witnessed struggling for dominance on his conflicted countenance, a look she knew very well: the pained but steadfast determination of a man who was far too ardent to be a white knight, but valiantly clung to his last shred of self-control out of respect for his beloved’s decency, all the same.

And this was exactly why the librarian trusted Harold enough to let herself completely go in his presence. Unbuttoning his dress shirt just enough to ease it down his shoulder, she pressed her lips to his brand mark and then whispered into his ear the first lines from _Le Baiser_ : “Ah! Harold, qu’avez-vous fait? Quel nouveau trouble et quelle ivresse!”

Even as he groaned and firmly grasped her by the hips so as to pull her against him, the music professor remained as quick-witted as ever, retorting with the final line of the poem: “C’est beaucoup plus que recevoir… ma chérie.”

But French was never Harold’s forte, especially when he clearly had far more earthly pursuits in mind than engaging in literary banter; he mangled the line so horribly that the librarian almost didn’t realize how clever his retort truly was. She would have thoroughly teased him for such a stunning lapse in repartee (in her daydreams of yore, her white knight’s accent and pronunciation had been impeccable when he quoted French poetry to her!). But what her husband lacked in erudite elegance, he more than made up for in passionate demonstration – as soon as he’d finished speaking, his mouth covered hers in a kiss that was torrid but tender, deep but undemanding, wanton but devoted.

Just like on that summer day two years ago when he first waltzed through the doors of Marian’s well-ordered library, Harold sang his love to her, but softly in her ear, and they danced together, but far more intimately. She could not have said how long they spent in this wordless, blissful interval, canoodling as leisurely and languidly as they used to when they were first married and had all the time in the world to spend on each other. But when Harold continued to show no great hurry in intensifying their embrace, giving her neck and décolletage one fervent but feather-light kiss after another, she was driven so wild that she had to do _something_ to hasten things along. And so Marian found herself gasping words she never dreamed she’d say – let alone moan! – outside the privacy of their home:

“Kiss me harder, Harold… ”

Harold let out a groan that made her shiver all over, even as she sweltered. “If it wasn’t too suspicious for you to wear a shawl on the walk home this afternoon, I most certainly would,” he averred, his breath hot and damp against her flushed skin. “But I’d better not – I can’t guarantee I won’t leave a mark… ”

Before the librarian could sigh in frustrated resignation – even as gone as she was, she couldn’t protest his taking such a sensible precaution – the music professor lifted his head to give her a grin that was downright wicked with naughty glee. “But if memory serves, my dear little librarian, there’s a love-bite on your thigh that needs refreshing… ”

When Marian let out an amused but appreciative laugh at her husband’s impish ingenuity, he extricated himself from their embrace and knelt before her. His hand had already been steadily tugging her skirts higher – a task she enthusiastically helped along by inching her leg slowly upward until it was wrapped around his hips – and he only needed to raise the hem of her bunched-up skirts a little further to find the opening of her drawers and nudge the thin fabric aside. Shortly after Harold’s eager mouth pressed into the bare skin of her thigh, the librarian felt a sharp jolt of pleasure. But even as her hands came crashing down on his shoulders and went on to make a hopeless mess of his curls (it would be perfectly appropriate for him to wear his straw boater, even in this terrible heat), she attempted to stifle the intensity of the ecstatic screams that tumbled out involuntarily as he gave her the heated love-bites that were too dangerous to bestow on her neck. Although she had sighed and even moaned in Harold’s arms when he kissed and caressed her earlier, she mustn’t get _too_ carried away.

Harold chuckled, though his breathing remained just as heavy and uneven as hers. “Shout as loud as you want, Marian – there’s no one here but us.”

The librarian smoothed back the curls hanging over her husband’s forehead. “Is that so, Professor Hill?” she asked, in as arch a tone as she could manage through her gasps.

With a self-satisfied nod, he proudly informed her, “I personally inspected every nook and cranny of this building earlier, just to make absolute sure we’d be alone this afternoon.”

Marian’s gasps turned into full-fledged laughs as she imagined Harold feverishly weaving in and out of the shelves and shooing all the patrons away as if they were her mother’s wayward chickens that had escaped their pen and gotten into the vegetable garden. This time, she did not make even the slightest attempt to contain herself, and her mirth rang loudly throughout the library.

Still on his knees, Harold continued to grin up at her, though he was now regarding her with inquiring – and slightly chagrined – eyes. Lest the befuddled music professor think she was laughing at him directly, Marian pulled him to his feet and, throwing her arms around him, kissed him solidly on the lips. “I love you,” she said happily. “I still can’t believe you arranged all this, just for me!” She kissed him again, this time sweetly on the cheek, and said in a soft, low voice, “I’ll never forget it, Harold.”

His confidence fully restored, Harold beamed at her and leaned in until his mouth was next to her ear. “Just so you know, my dear little librarian, I sent the girls to your mother’s for the afternoon,” he informed her, his tone just as tender. “I didn’t know how much time we’d have, and I didn’t want to wait for you until tonight. So as soon as Miss Peabody gets back from all her errands, we’ll go straight home.” He paused to tug gently at her earlobe with his lips, and the last of Marian’s giggles died away as a shiver of anticipation ran from the top of her head to the tips of her toes once more. “But until then, I’ll do whatever you want – you just name it.”

The librarian did not hesitate in her request. “Touch me, Harold – everywhere.”

Weaving her fingers in his hair, Marian completely abandoned herself to exhilaration, moaning loudly and unabashedly as her husband hastened to fulfill her entreaty. She wasn’t sure how long they stood there together, Harold making love to every inch of her he could reach with his hands and lips – and her reciprocating in return – when a meticulous but indisputable pounding on the locked double doors reverberated throughout the building and shattered their romantic reverie.

With a smile and a sigh, husband and wife parted and industriously set about straightening their rumpled clothing. Thanks to the experience she was steadily amassing from their annual trysts at the faraway field, it did not take Marian long to smooth her skirts down over her legs, straighten her blouse, and tuck her unruly tresses back into place. However, their illicit embrace had left Harold far more tousled: his tie had fallen out of his collar completely, his suit-coat and dress shirt were hanging so loosely off his shoulders he might as well have not been wearing them at all, and his undone belt had worked its way out of so many pant loops it was nearly trailing on the floor. Though his trousers remained most of the way fastened, he had to undo them entirely in order to get the tails of his dress shirt to lie properly beneath his waistband again. As the music professor struggled to neaten his ensemble, Marian spotted his tie in a crumpled heap by her foot and bent down to retrieve it so he wouldn’t see the mirth she was so desperately trying to smother – they didn’t have a moment to spare, as the rapping on the front doors was growing steadily more persistent as the minutes passed.

But Harold noticed it anyway, and waggled his finger at her as soon as she stood upright. “Oh, you just wait’ll I get you home, Madam Librarian… ”

Even as the puckish gleam in his eye made her want to press a heated kiss to that insolent mouth of his, Marian merely smiled as she assisted him with the last of his ablutions and then knotted his tie. Further flirtation could wait until they were safely ensconced behind the closed doors of their charming Victorian. Not only was she certain that her husband would lose no time in disheveling her once more, she’d actively encourage such shenanigans – though she might insist on a cool bath for the two of them, first!

While their appearance was by no means immaculate, it was respectable enough to pass muster for a sweltering summer day. At any rate, the librarian could easily account for her oddly rumpled clothing and unusual slowness to reach the door as a result of losing track of time working in the second-floor archive room. As for Harold’s less-than-impeccable appearance – he could explain anything away with his silver tongue.

However, the charming music professor must have entertained a few doubts as to whether he would indeed escape undetected from their latest amorous adventure. As they passed by the book dumbwaiter, he slyly remarked, “I know of a much quicker way for me to get the first floor and out the back door before poor Miss Peabody’s ruckus comes to Constable Locke’s attention… ”

Indeed, the pounding on the doors had grown nearly frantic by now. But Marian stifled her amusement and, realizing that she never took her devil-may-care husband properly to task for that little stunt, briskly admonished, “You will do no such thing, _Mister_ Hill. It took me the better part of a year to convince the trustees to pay for the necessary repairs, and now that the dumbwaiter is finally working properly, I won’t have you damaging it again!”

By now, they had reached the bottom of the spiral staircase, so the danger of Harold actually using the dumbwaiter as an elevator was rendered moot. But they still weren’t quite out of the woods yet – not only did her irrepressible husband tug on her arm and pull her back to him for a sweet, lingering kiss, she allowed it without so much as a token protest, even though the cacophony of knocking was almost deafening.

When they finally parted, Harold grinned, pointed toward the back door, and circled his arm toward the front walkway in one of those graceful, fluid motions of his that never failed to make her stomach somersault with delight. “Bench,” he mouthed.

Marian beamed conspiratorially at him. “Fifteen minutes,” she mouthed in return.


	3. Epilogue: Unfinished Business

Later, Harold would have an unusual amount of difficulty recalling the particulars of their walk home. His deliciously tousled wife had indeed closed the library fifteen minutes after he left to wait outside for her, and the moment she caught his outstretched hand, he hastened her to the charming Victorian as quickly as decorum and the stiflingly hot weather allowed.

When they stepped into their refreshingly cool front hall, Harold lost no time in shedding his hat and suit-coat. Meanwhile, Marian stood in front of the full-length mirror and not only removed her hat, but after giving her husband a sly smile, started removing her hairpins, as well. In a flash, Harold was by her side, his nimble fingers assisting her with this task.

Though the allure of unwinding the librarian’s chignon had lost none of its appeal since the first night decency had allowed him to take such liberties, the heady sense of sensual spontaneity had long since disappeared from the act. No matter how eager the music professor was to bury himself in Marian’s unfettered honey-blonde curls, he remained scrupulously aware of exactly where each hairpin landed once it was free of her tresses. As of course, did the librarian – for all she sighed at her husband’s languorous caresses of her locks, he spied her sneaking several looks at his hands as he carefully and deliberately dropped the pins, one after another, into a tin on the nearby end table. After that heart-wrenching night in January – which, ironically, had been in all likelihood the night they’d finally conceived their longed-for children – Harold had placed tins in strategic locations all around the house in order to allow for greater flexibility in where he was able to seduce his wife, while minimizing the danger of leaving any incriminating evidence of the full measure of their passion for gossip-greedy visitors to take jealous or scandalized offense at!

Lowering his lips to the librarian’s neck so she wouldn’t see the frustration in his countenance, the music professor sighed at this subtle but pervasive reminder that they could never completely escape the strictures of society even in the privacy of their own home. But Harold was not annoyed with his wife – given the difficulties she experienced with rumors in the past, he couldn’t blame her for being so careful regarding her reputation, and he did not want to give her even the slightest impression that he did not sympathize with her point of view. Besides, it was such a minor inconvenience that it wasn’t worth spoiling the mood over.

But even as Harold shook these thoughts away like bothersome gnats and sought to deepen his wife’s pleasure by nibbling at her delectable neck, he was once again assailed by another reminder of having to rein in his passion – as it was the height of summer, it behooved him to refrain from leaving too many marks on the librarian’s bare skin that she could not easily conceal from public view.

But his irritation vanished almost entirely when frustration entered Marian’s sighs as well. “I wish it was the middle of winter!”

Harold chuckled and then groaned his agreement as Marian leaned back into his embrace, her backside pressing even more insistently against his groin. His mouth found her shoulder – a much safer, though far less exciting, spot for a harder kiss – and he said nothing more. But her disgruntlement at the propriety they had to maintain cheered the music professor greatly as well as firmed the resolve that had been steadily growing within him during the past few years: Someday, once he saved up enough money, he was going to take his wife on a luxurious tour to Chicago or New York City or perhaps even as far away as Paris, so he could scatter her hairpins without being overly concerned where they landed and give her neck love-bites with reckless abandon – and without triggering any insinuating commentary whenever she happened to be wearing a shawl or scarf that was a mite too thick for the season!

Still, Harold remained grateful that thanks to his foresight earlier, they would be the sole occupants of the house until suppertime – before setting off for the library, he’d arranged for Mrs. Paroo to look after the girls for the rest of the afternoon. As his mother-in-law enthusiastically welcomed any and every opportunity to dote upon her long-awaited grandchildren, Harold had no qualms about making such impositions from time to time – though as a doting father himself, he did not like to give Penny and Elly up for entire Saturdays unless he had good reason. And one of the rare reasons good enough for him was the promise of some quality time with Marian in which they did not have to keep their voices low or ears peeled for interruption.

Though Harold had wanted children with his dear little librarian long before Penny and Elly were gleams in his eye, he was still staggered by how wholly his offspring had captured his heart, which was already full to overflowing with his love for Marian. When he grinned at his daughters it never failed to enchant him how quickly and joyously they smiled back at their father. In such moments, the music professor felt a startling rush of love that only deepened as Penny and Elly grew older. As he reflected how much he loved his daughters, he also remembered the love that created them, and so his love for his wife was continuously reinvigorated. Although the simple but deep satisfaction of being a family man was just as unexpected as it was wonderful, Harold couldn’t help chuckling and shaking his head at his previous incomprehension and ignorance of the lifestyle he’d spent so long actively avoiding. Yet there must have been a small part for him that had wished for it, for how else could he be so extraordinarily content with where he’d ultimately ended up?

Having lost himself in rumination, Harold hadn’t realized how inattentive he’d become until Marian turned in his embrace to face him more fully than watching one another’s reflections in the mirror allowed.

“Losing interest, Professor Hill?” she teased.

Although there wasn’t so much as a glimmer of apprehension in her eyes, the music professor immediately covered her mouth with his and pressed his hips against hers to prove that lack of interest in her was the last thing she needed to worry about. Normally, Harold would have revealed to his wife everything he’d been thinking about, for her expression had been questioning despite her lack of disquiet, but time was precious and there was something more important he needed to do right now. Silently promising Marian that he would tell her everything in a low lover’s whisper after they’d gone to bed later tonight, he broke their kiss, grabbed her by the hand, and pulled her into the parlor. It was only when they were at the patch of wall she had cringed against when he’d advanced on her in anger during their heated argument few months earlier about his old burlesque photograph collection that he spoke:

“Here’s something else I wanted to make up to you, while we have the opportunity.” The moment the curiosity in the librarian’s countenance brightened into delight, he was kissing her again; long, deep and tender kisses that would hopefully be the first thing she remembered whenever her gaze fell upon this area of the parlor from now on.

“Harold,” she gasped in between those kisses, “what happened here before wasn’t _all_ your doing… ”

Harold vehemently shook his head as his mouth worked its way down her neck. “I still ought to have controlled my temper… ”

Remorse entered Marian’s sighs as she nuzzled his neck in return. “I shouldn’t have said such awful, hurtful things to you… things that weren’t even true.” Her hands found his belt buckle, and Harold was startled to realize her fingers were trembling. Still, he made no move to stop or even interrupt the librarian, for she was wearing the same sweetly determined expression as she had the first time she had been so bold as to undress him below the waist. “Even if I had found those photographs during our engagement, I still would have married you. While I wouldn’t have been pleased about their existence, I would have felt the easily-assuaged jealousy of a maid that had no practical knowledge of such matters, not the unreasonably suspicious alarm of a wife whose husband was away on a business trip.” Having finally worked his belt loose, she began to unfasten his trousers. “But being a wife, at least I know exactly how to make things up to you… ”

When she’d done this in the ancient languages aisle earlier, Harold had been torn between three courses of action: kissing Marian senseless, tenderly discouraging her so she wouldn’t do anything she might regret later, and waiting to see just what she had in mind. Astonishment and indecision led him to take the third course. But here, in the privacy of their parlor, he did not hesitate to cover his wife’s mouth with his own, kissing her so vehemently that when she finally broke their embrace to kneel before him, he sighed with frustration even as he gratefully took much-needed gulps of air. But he certainly did not discourage the librarian when she continued to undo his trousers; instead he groaned her name loud and shamelessly and wound his fingers in her curls as she took him in her mouth. And then Harold knew nothing but bliss – not just satisfaction of the physical pleasure he had spent a good deal of his life pursuing, but also the joy of being so sweetly and ardently loved by the woman he hadn’t known he’d been looking for until he’d finally found her, and who’d given him everything he hadn’t realized he’d ever wanted.

Driven by that love, he stopped her before she finished him. “Marian,” he gasped through heavy, labored breaths, “I want you – ”

Even as Harold spoke, he was pulling his wife to her feet and ushering her to the sofa. To his delight, Marian was not at all inclined to protest the interruption of her amorous advances – in fact, she enthusiastically tumbled to the cushions and opened herself to him with just as much desperate haste as he hiked up her skirts, covered her body with his own and, having entered her, moved his hips against hers with raw abandon.

The unexpected direction this tryst had taken made the music professor recall another incident from the past – the first night he had brought the librarian home as his wife. Marian had possessed a maiden’s reticence but a woman’s desire, melting into his arms and moving against him even as she trembled with uncertainty at what lay ahead for her. Although he had unwisely surrendered just a little too soon to the longing he’d nursed for four whole months, he demonstrated remarkable restraint for a man of his vigor; his caresses were gentle, even as the librarian spurred a passionate reciprocation from him when she wrapped her leg around his waist and pressed her body against his.

But this time, neither of them balked or hesitated in their embrace, expressing to the fullest the sheer depth of their feelings and desire for one another. It made Harold’s head spin, to love and be loved in a way that he once was too world-weary and cynical to believe possible – especially after two years of marriage and two children! Even after he’d reached the peak of physical pleasure – and noted with supreme satisfaction that his wife had experienced the same ecstasy almost continuously as he’d made love to her – he clung to Marian and continued not just to kiss her softly and sweetly on her swollen crimson lips and flushed cheeks, but also to whisper each earnest and unvarnished endearment that came into his head.

“Marian, I am never going to stop loving you like this – ever. If there are any other ghosts of unpleasant memories haunting you, I’ll spend the rest of my life chasing them away. You just name how and where, and I’ll find a way.”

Although the librarian beamed at him, there was also an appraising look in her eyes as she said, “And what about _your_ ghosts, Harold?”

“With you by my side, I’m no longer afraid of them,” he said, both staunchly and gratefully.

The appraisal in her expression deepened. “You know, it really is miraculous that we ended up so happily together. In our own different ways, we both had such wrongheaded ideas about what true love really entailed. Your lack of knowledge came from being too jaded by overindulgence of carnal appetites, whereas mine arose from the lofty idealism formed after reading too many books.”

Harold had to laugh in agreement at her assessment. “Yes, your ideal lover was a chaste white knight, and my ideal lover was a worldly woman who was far too savvy for such romantic notions! It’s nothing short of amazing that I managed to come up from the gutter and you down from your tower so we could meet in the middle.” A wicked gleam entered his gaze and he pressed his hips ever so slightly against hers. “And ‘meeting in the middle’ is just what I’d like to do now, Madam Librarian.”

Although they were covered in perspiration and the heat of heavy exertion and humid weather had sapped a good deal of their strength, Harold’s desire had begun to stir again – and being close enough to discern the subtlest of Marian’s intimate physical responses, he knew hers had, as well. Later, their full vigor would be restored by a cool bath followed by a brief nap – he wanted Marian in his arms for those activities, too. And just before Mrs. Paroo arrived with two burbling daughters excited to see their parents, Harold looked forward to a third round of lovemaking, this time slowly and languidly on cool sheets in the cozy and luxurious Mediterranean-style bedroom he had devised to appeal to the librarian’s grandest romantic sensibilities – the room where she had so warmly and passionately given herself entirely to him, leaving behind the final vestiges of her girlhood for good.

But he mustn’t get too far ahead of himself. Even as Marian’s leg tightened around his waist, exhaustion now tempered the exhilaration of her smile. So as hard as it was getting to remain impassively motionless in her embrace, the music professor paused and waited for a more ringing affirmative that his wife wanted this just as much as he did right now.

It was a testament to how far Marian had come since he’d first met her and then chased after her in the library – how far she’d come since even their wedding night – that she did not blush or demur at the intensity of his inquisitive gaze. Instead, she looked Harold straight in the eye – straight into his soul – and firmly, heatedly and unabashedly replied, “So would I.”


End file.
